


Fly to Me

by Lurlur



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Fluff, Gen, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur
Relationships: Harriet Dowling & Warlock Dowling, Nanny Ashtoreth & Warlock Dowling
Comments: 13
Kudos: 72
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #4 "A Gift"





	Fly to Me

The box is neatly wrapped in black paper and tied with a red ribbon, sitting on the breakfast bar. No one knows how it got there which is making the newer secret service agents a little twitchy. Those that have been with the Dowlings for a while are rather more used to this sort of thing.

“Warlock, honey, why don’t you take that through to the den to open with your other gifts?” suggests Harriet.

Warlock is 15 today, and completely over being called ‘honey’ by his mother. Rolling his eyes, he picks up the box, knowing better than to be disappointed by how light it feels.

There’s a mountain of gifts in the den, a combination of guilt from an absent father, and his sycophants.

He opens four new games consoles, two laptops, the keys to a motorbike (which Harriet quietly returns), and a 3D printer. Nothing feels like it was really bought with him in mind, nothing that shows a knowledge of the sort of person Warlock is. He’s not ungrateful for the gifts, he just knows that they are more a reflection on his place in the world than on what people think of him.

A lifetime as Thaddeus Dowling’s son and photo accessory has made Warlock somewhat jaded and introspective.

When the black box with the red ribbon is the only gift left unopened, Harriet stops taking photos and pulls out an envelope.

“Just a little something from me and your dad,” she says, as if half the gifts in the room didn’t bear his parent’s names.

“Thanks,” Warlock says, refusing to hope.

Lifting the flap, Warlock pulls out a folded sheet of paper, it’s a flight itinerary to London for two days time.

“I know you’ve been missing your friends in England,” Harriet says, sounding uncertain. “I thought you might like to visit them.”

Warlock nods, his throat tight with emotion.

“Thanks, mom, this is great.”

He doesn’t cry. He really doesn’t. But it’s closer than he likes.

The black-and-red gift is a welcome distraction. He tugs the ribbon loose and unfolds the paper, revealing a box. Taking off the lid, as he has every year since he was 12, Warlock peers inside and sees only blackness. The gift appears under his hand, a handsome telescope he pulls out of a box far too small to hold it. It’s just what he’d wanted, better than the model he’s been researching online. Once it’s on its tripod, he spots the tag almost immediately.

These gifts are always unmarked, never a note or a card. Warlock snatches the tag, almost tearing it in his eagerness.

Written in a well-known hand, there’s an address in London, a time, and a date during his upcoming trip; it’s an invitation, signed simply “A”. He’s always known who sends these gifts, and now they want to meet. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so excited to see his childhood nanny, but Warlock was taught better than to care about what he _should_ feel.


End file.
